Man Servant

Published November 10, 2018 in Genevieve , George - 0 Comments

Man Servant

George wasn’t sure

how he felt about

being referred to as a factotum.

Here he’d stayed devoted

to Genevieve,

even after their separation.

She had moved on

and married Max.

It was awkward at first,

George lingered

and still swept the front,

brought her coffee every morning.

Then it came to her,

he would become her general factotum.

Jack of whatever it was she needed done.

It made perfect sense.

She could trust him,

he would do anything she said (or asked?),

and he wasn’t leaving anyway,

so why not put him to work?

“Idle minds are the devil’s pillow”,

she reasoned.

El Verano

Published November 7, 2018 in Lizette - 0 Comments

El Verano

The cactus pears were sweet.

A pain in the ass to peel,

with all the spikes.

Had to use lots of hardware.

Gloves, knives, forks and pliers.

It was like doing surgery.

Dangerous on the outside,

but sweet on the inside.

“Like me”, thought Lizette.

She peeled two

and sliced them.

Took them to bed.

Got under the covers

and turned on the tv.

Ate a slice,

it reminded her of her childhood,

Hot August night,

Abuela peeling a whole

basket full of them.

For Papi to make wine.

Her phone buzzed.

Texts from him and two others.

She ate a third slice,

it tasted just like summer.

He could wait,

it had been almost 3 hours

since she had heard from him.

La Llorona

Published November 5, 2018 in Barbosa , LA Stories - 0 Comments

La Llorona

The house was a rental and

everyone was a little mental.

(In a good way.)

A mariachi outfit

and a couple of mechanics.

Lot’s of people,


and lots of music.

It was Dia de los Muertos.

Remembering, those

they had lost.

Tio Anthony,

Marcos, Abuela,

and Tita Maxine.

They sang

El dia de muertos

because it was also

about love.

We’re all going to die,

we might as well

get as much love as we can

in the meantime.

And give as much

as we are able.

All Hallows

Published November 1, 2018 in Uncategorized - 0 Comments

All Hallows

N. ventured out.

He didn’t remember the dead,

because he didn’t think they were dead.

When he walked down the street,

people thought,

‘That’s a very convincing costume.

Who’s he trying to be?”

He has always known

how to navigate the in between spaces.

The hallways, the alleyways,

the dark rooms next to the bathroom.

He glided between them.

He preferred the shadows,

they hid his differences.

He didn’t care about power or control.

His concern was finding the crease,

that led to the in between spaces.

It’s My Turn (To Be Done)

Published October 30, 2018 in Max , Ophelia - 0 Comments

Its My Turn

The first done was

that holiday done.

He said something stupid,

and she let him have it.

“What? We’re done.”

The second done

came in the laundry room,

in a nasty exchange

where he said,

“You’re so fucking miserable. Why?”

To which she replied,

“Fuck you. We’re done.”

The third done

came on the dance floor in Mexico.

She wanted to dance, they just flew in.

He wanted to go to the hotel room

and have sex.

She stormed back to the room.

Made him sleep on the couch.

In the middle of the night he came to bed,

As he was going down on her,

she stopped him, waved her finger and said,

“Last time, we’re done.”

The fourth done came on

a balcony in Madrid.

He held her from behind

and she felt it turn off for him.

Like a light switch.

She didn’t say a word.

It was a silent, but deadly done.

The fifth done came

when they met back in New York.

It was brief,

she gave him a peck on the cheek,

they had lunch and she left.

He said, “I know, we’re done.

“Still love you though.”

The sixth done came

as he was writing his book in the desert.

She called him and told him

that she was packing her things.

Her mother rented a huge shipping container

and they took absolutely everything.

He came home to an empty house,

with his new boots that book money had bought.

“It’s my turn” he said to the squirrel,

(who had returned, hoping for some almonds.)

“To be done.”

The 4th Impression

Published October 26, 2018 in Max , Milla - 0 Comments

The 4th Impression

Got all gussied up.

Because, let’s face it,

you only have one chance

to make a 4th impression.

Because the first never goes as planned.

The second, you have more latitude,

but it could be just infatuation.

The third, well, who cares by then?

It’s the 4th that really makes or breaks it.

Max wore his blue suit

with the silk Deco tie.

And those shoes he bought

from Portugal.

He reasoned, “What have I got to lose?”

She thought, “Hmm…he’s a clothes horse. I can work with that.”

Silk Panties

Published October 25, 2018 in Milla - 0 Comments

Silk Panties

Cartwright texted her a photo

of himself in mauve and slightly off white

woman’s panties.

“Nice color.” she replied.

He sent her another one with him in red.

Crimson with black lace.

“Oh, boy” she thought,

“He’s high maintenance.”

They met.

He was feminine,

but restrained.

“i’d like you to be excited

about me wearing those panties.”

he said, almost apologetic.

“Yeah” said Milla,

“I’m not going to be.

I could pretend, but that’s not me.”

“Oh, I see.” said Cartwright.

“Would you prefer I lie?” asked MIlla.

“No, no. Tell me the truth.” he said,

looking past her across the building.

Viking Queen

Published October 23, 2018 in Milla - 0 Comments

Viking Queen

Milla was type cast,

as the “Crying Mother”

in film after film.

Little did they know

that the particular

deep and penetrating sorrow

had a source.

It was not faked,

or over acting.

It was raw emotion.

You don’t get to be Queen

without suffering.

You can not lead,

if you can not overcome.

She was the Ingenue,

the star of a regional production

of Pippy Longstocking.

And he was her sinister lover.

He was possessive to the extreme.

Jealous with a vengeance.

He hurt her.

He beat her.

She got away from him.

and that town.

She not only survived,

she found herself,

it was her first test

in becoming Queen.

A Viking Queen,

leader of women and men.

The Fox Stole

Published October 22, 2018 in Milla - 0 Comments

The Fox Stole

The woman was three sheets to the wind.
Wearing an old black fur stole. Might have been fox.

She could barely stand, let alone walk home.
She was the wife of her older brother’s friend.

Milla just wanted to make sure she made it home.
The woman’s cousin was also there.
Together he and Milla half carried her home.

She lived on the top floor
of a two story building.
The stairs were steep.

They managed to get her to stagger
to the top of the stairs.
He knocked on the door.

As they waited for an answer,
she began to fall backwards,
down the staircase.

Milla reached out to stop her
from falling.
She jammed her thumb,
heard it pop.

The cousin grabbed the fox stole.
It came off and she fell.
Too much for both of them.

Milla and he both looked at the stole.
It was held together
by a pin that read “Death to Capitalism.”


Published October 19, 2018 in Lizette - 0 Comments


“Start small with your toe in the water.

This company is going to be very special.”

said Lizette.

At the same time she was

working a side voodoo.

You know, just in case.

It’s called the “Beef Tongue Shut Up Hoodoo Spell”

Step 1: Get a beef tongue.

Step 2: Slit open the tongue, down the middle.

Step 3: Say the name of the person you want to shut up.

Step 4: Say the following spell, “I cross and cover you,

come under my command. I command you to hold your tongue.”

Step 5: Cut off a piece of the tongue,

put it in a mason jar with a piece of paper

with the name of the prosecutor.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?” asked Lizette.

“You lose a few bucks.

It’s not like you lose your dignity.”

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